From the Writings of a Forsaken
by Alexandre Louis LeBlanc
Summary: Follow the life of an unnamed Forsaken.Will be updated somewhat, randomly.
1. Chapter 1

I was born in the wetlands a long time ago. I honestly don't know how long I was dead for, but I keep trying to resurface my memories of humanity. Most of them are starting to come back, I remember my born name but I still stick with the name I was given by my fellow Forsaken. I also remember I have a sister that may still be among the humans. Depending of course, how long I was dead for. Perhaps I should start from the start? I guess I'll start from when I found my calling, as a Warlock.

My sister and I were both magically adept children so our parents took us to a special school in the wetlands. There my sister begun to shine with a brilliant radiance, as she was able to cast seemingly for hours without needing so much as a break, but I met my limit, always at four spells, fucking fireball. But I did have a larger advantage against my classmates, I could take the most abuse of any of them, I had a lot more stamina than those rejects. My sister kept attempting to train me to conjure water, or even the frost shield. I couldn't grasp either of there concepts, nor could I really use a normal fireball, it seemed more of a blacker, paler fire.

After a few years of that sort of training, I got fed up with it, and ran away to silverpine forest. Let me rephrase what I meant when I said magically adept, I meant that I had a potency for dark, and powerful spells. Not that I was good at casting spells continuously, like most magic adepts. I began to delve myself in the history books, reading and reading and reading… till I found out something, I was never meant to be a mage; my qualities suggested that I was a warlock adept, Warlocks made poor mages mainly because of our lack of regeneration that mages seem to have in abundance. After I had discovered this I was already reaching my late thirties, I started training.

My physical body was deteriorating on its own, so I guess I looked undead before I actually died. When I started to grow a little ignorant of my strength, my home was attacked by another Warlock named Arugal, I eased into an ignorant sleep known as Death.

When I was revived under the Lich King I had started reading, and learning about history for the sake of my lord, and such I saw very little combat in all. As such I never really got stronger, I knew the bulk of our history on Azeroith mainly because that was my specialty, so people of LT, level would come to me for information about the past, so they could avoid messing up as badly in our future. As soon as the other undead began running away, I followed.

Then I went to the home, and started training. I learned to summon an Imp, a Voidwalker, and a Succubus. I'm training in skinning and tailoring, since enchanting and leatherworking never gave me its appeal. I still study history of course, but I spend the bulk of my time training, and reading, continuing my eternal thirst for knowledge.


	2. Chapter 2

After all of these years I finally made my way back to Silver Pine forest. Apparently while I was gone, Arugal died, and was revived as an undead. His alliances are against the Forsaken so it is my job to destroy him. Currently I'm doing research and training to be able to fight at least on a near even level with him. I have four other team mates that are sworn to his destruction, a warrior who just likes to fight, A rouge who is after a dagger Arugal supposedly holds, a priest who wants a staff of a wolf in there, and a hunter who just dislikes worgens. I am the only one who supposedly "fought" Arugal in the past, I tried to tell them that all that happened was I got my face blasted apart and lost my nose, but nobody listens. While we are in there I will get all the cloth we find, and Arugal's robes.

More recently I've been studying about how Azeroth came to be. Apparently, at the dawn of our planet, a race of inter-dimensional beings came here, and stole Azeroth from the old gods, imprisoning there servants underground (The most notable being the fire and lightning ones) after that they gave balance to the world, and left a fraction of there power into the five mighty dragon aspects. (Nozdormu (Time) Alexstrasza (Life) Ysera (Nature? Dreaming?) Malygos (Magic) Neltharion (Earth)) To the dragons standards, the titans power is incomprehensible, but to our standards the dragon's powers are incomprehensible, - thus we are- the ants to the ants.

-The origin of the dragonflight- is incomprehensible to us mortals, and thus, I have heard many stories, -the most probable- that I have found is that they are like Orcs, not born on this planet at all, but, came here by some cosmic accident several thousand years before –the humans- birth. As a Forsaken, it is my job to wonder, how powerful are these dragon aspects? Can they beat the Lich King? My conclusion is, gods, just like the normal beings, are fallible. My evidence is thus, Neltharion, one of the dragon aspects, was corrupted by the old gods, and the old gods are just beings of corruption themselves, proving that –Lich King- existing as two separate organisms, and of the strongest of his old races, is possible more powerful than the dragons. Besides Nozdormu, who exists as three at once.

But what of Ysera? The Green Mother is -Probably- the second most important dragon aspect behind Nozdormu, since she is the one who watches over all sentient races. I know that her errars are to mortal, since she's loved, lost love, and shown all emotions that non-dead creatures show. Sure, we Forsaken have mild emotions, but they have died down because of us dieing, our will is more powerful than any other existence other than the gods. The Green Mother is the one who keeps to our well being, so I thank her.

Nozdormu, The Timeless One, is perhaps the most powerful being on Azeroth, the bronze dragon, knows exactly, when, where, what and how everything will happen. I heard a story that when he first was given his power, he was filled with hubris, but –The Titan- that gave him his power, showed him a vision of his own demise. Thus he knows that he is not eternal.

My hand is cramping, and my team is coming, today we go to shadowfang keep to get the deathstalkers back, if I make it back alive, I will surely write more about my discoveries.


	3. Chapter 3

Nozdormu damn Arugal, Your time is neigh! We were able to barely make it back alive, well… most of us anyway; our rogue was completely destroyed, so our priest couldn't revive him. Rest In Peace my friend. When we got there we were able to save one of the death stalkers, the other was dead by the time we got there, unfortunately.

Now we're one member short, but, when I exchanged blows with Arugal in the castle, my power is near his, if I get healed during the fight that is. Our warrior are is more than a match for his sons. But we need a mage, more than anything else right now. Our commander sent a notice to the Dark Lady, and she is searching for a mage to support us, regardless of the race.

My wounds are deep, my hunger is great, and I am low on souls. –I am- leaving.

End of Chapter

I apologize for chapter three being THIS short, but as it is, I am writing a journal for this character, and mind you, if you get really annoyed and have enough focus to write in your journal, do honestly want to write a lot? 

Also, () mentioning of what he thinks everyone else knows, to clear things up

And -- something to clear up his grammer, since this IS a journal, he has writing mistakes


	4. Chapter 4

I haven't looked at my journal for a few days now, I had better write in it. Well, Arugal is starting to make threats to the dark lady, so naturally we need to attempt to stop him. Lady Sylvanas (for those uneducated Lady Sylvanas is the name of the dark lady) is sending a Blood Elf Paladin with us; hopefully with two highly endurable team mates we may be able to handle him this time.

I will write more when I get back from the fortress.

-Below this point is writing in orcish, written by the undead, I will attempt to translate it. Because it seems to be a chant for power. Note: when something is written in italics, that means its orcish, not gutterspeak.-

_Blood and thunder breeze through my body, the rage of those who we lost fuels us. My vengeance will be accomplished in this passing hour. Blood and thunder pass through the sky, my body withered, our power great. Those who have died will not be forgotten. Blood and Thunder!_

(It is unknown why the Human undead wrote in Orcish. Or even what the chant is, I apologize for my lack of ability in orcish. I publish by pages, and this page continues on, unlike the others, where he just turns the page. So let us continue.)

Ha! We did it, at the lose of the paladin, and the warrior we were able to defeat Arugal! I wish I could recreate how… incredible that battle was. I now don my rivals Robe and Belt, I hold his dagger behind my back, I wear his pets skin on my back, and I own his watchers staff. The Hunter was able to get some armor from the commander as well. The hunter, the priest, and myself went back, and each received a Seal from the dark lady herself, I wear mine with pride.

Tonight we are all breaking up into our separate ways, so I will be leaving to go back to the undercity and do more studying. _For the Horde!_

HAHA I think I am finally respecting the dark ladies choice to join the barbaric horde.


End file.
